


The Herald of Andraste

by CherryMilkshake



Series: Who would have thought you'd be a big softie? [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMilkshake/pseuds/CherryMilkshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Adaar became Andrastian, and what happened after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Herald of Andraste

**Author's Note:**

> The final scene references the final romance scene with Dorian, so if you haven't seen it [in a while], [here you go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uL5VoN0OuEo&list=PLrYsj_Il7VSsvv93CXKAvQL8c0Yx4oevc&index=50). (If you've never seen it with a qunari quizzie, it's worth checking out the video. Size differences are cute!)

Bernart Adaar had not always been a religious man. With Tal-Vashoth parents and working in a Tal-Vashoth mercenary company, he had always been surrounded by people who were tired of others telling them what was true or false. 

But becoming the Herald of Andraste in the eyes of Thedas' people changed him. At first, it was simply a desire to defend his people from the false beliefs of their savagery, then just to live up to their expectations. But reading the Chant, talking to Cassandra and Leliana and Cullen, and then to Varric and Dorian, who were Andrastian without the loyalty to the Chantry that often came with it… It just made sense, to steal a phrase from Sera.

He didn't go quite so far as Sera. He believed that, like the Avvar, the ancient elves had worshipped spirits, given them name and by doing so, shaped them. He saw no sin there. Spirits are creations of the Maker as well, and He didn't strike Bern as a jealous god, though others would surely disagree.

And in the final battle with Corypheus, the Breach's gaping maw overhead, pouring demons and magic into the world, he _felt_ something beyond the gash, something bigger than himself, giving him strength. 

So he gave thanks to the Maker and Andraste when the deed was done, and when he returned to Skyhold, he took the hand of the newly-elected Leliana, and asked her to pray with him. It was a simple prayer, for he was too new to know the words by heart, but he felt their power nonetheless.

After the party concluded, and the final celebration of life and hope and light was concluded in his bed with the man he loved, he fell into the deep sleep of the truly exhausted.

And _dreamed_.

\--

It began as a nightmare. He had so many nightmares. He was standing in Skyhold's entrance hall, looking up at the stained glass. When he turned to talk to Varric, he saw that the dwarf, and all of his things, were gone. The fireplace stood cold and empty. When he went to talk to Josephine, to ask if she knew where he had gone, her desk was bare, and she was missing behind it. 

Panic set in. He ran back outside and up the stairs to the balcony, where Vivienne could always be found.

But she was not there.

 _Dorian_. The name gripped his heart like a vice when he thought of it, and he sprinted down the stairs and across the little hallway and into the library. No scholars or spies could be found, and when Bern reached Dorian's alcove, the soft sunlight illuminating dust motes in the air, he saw that chair too, was empty. 

He shook. Skyhold was empty. Where were his people? Where was Dorian? Had they left without saying goodbye? What was he without them?

Surely they were at the tavern, celebrating, he decided, and raced back down the stairs to the main hall. But something out of place caught his eye, and he turned towards the throne.

It was not his throne, but something distinctly Ferelden—big and covered with dog fur. And sitting in it, was a human woman. 

She was almost as tall as the Avvar, with thick blonde hair braided over her shoulder. A shining crown sat upon it, so radiant that it put her hair to shame. 

Bern found that he couldn't speak.

"Did I scare you?" she asked. Her voice was lower than he expected, and thrummed with power that resonated with his very bones. "I'm sorry, I didn't imagine what you'd think. I sought to place you somewhere familiar, but a familiar place without the people that make it up? That's not familiar at all." 

"Who…?" Bern began, but he already knew. Somehow.

"My name is Andraste," she said kindly. 

"Am I dying?" Bern asked. "Are you here to guide me to the Maker's side?"

Andraste smiled. "You're dying, but no faster than any other mortal. You will wake in the morn, as if it were any other day. As for guiding you to the Maker's side…" She stood, the throne vanishing behind her.

She walked to Bern's side and held out her hand. "You have saved the world in more ways than you can understand right now, and you will continue to do so, in your own way. So, walk with me, Inquisitor. There is someone you should meet."

The far doors opened, and Bern was blinded by golden light.

\-- 

He woke to the light of dawn, the echoes of the dream still lingering behind his eyes, in his ears. He couldn't remember the faces, nor the voices or words precisely, but the _feeling_ stayed. A chill breeze made him aware that he was crying. 

Dorian grumbled at the cold, curling tighter against Bern's side. 

Words that once were unfamiliar on his tongue suddenly spilled forth. "I have heard the sound, a song in the stillness, the echo of Your voice, calling creation to wake from its slumber." His voice was soft, as if he feared loudness would chase away the remnants of the dream.

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.

"I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see the Light is here."

Dorian yawned and stirred. "Bern? Something wrong?" he mumbled.

Bern chuckled and reached up to rest his hand on Dorian's mussed hair. "The opposite, I think."

"Mm, good." Dorian was clearly falling back asleep. 

Bern ruffled the mage's hair. "Come on, Dorian. Let's greet the Breach-free dawn together before I have to go be the Inquisitor again."

Dorian yawned. "Alright, I suppose that is something worth getting out of bed for." He didn't move though. 

Bern slid out from under the covers, half-pulling Dorian with him. "Come on, the sun's going to peek over the mountains in less than a half hour."

"Mm, alright, let me look the part of greeting the day."

Bern laughed. "Really? You're going to dress up for the sun?"

"A Breach-free sun? Of course I am." Dorian yawned again and went over to his belt where it lay on the floor abandoned. A pouch held a small stash of cosmetics and a hand mirror, which he pulled out to give himself a once over. " _Fasta vass_ , what did my hair ever do to you?" he grumbled. 

Bern sniggered as he did some stretches to help wake his body up. "It was too perfect. It had to be punished."

"Next time, could you not be quite so thorough in doing so?" He appeared to be having trouble setting it to rights one-handed.

"That's not what you said last night, kadan." 

"Oh, ha ha, very funny. Hold this, would you?" He held out the mirror. Dutifully, Bern took it and held it steady while Dorian fixed his hair and mustache, then redid his eyes. "There. See? Much better."

Bern opened his mouth to say something "syrupy", but Dorian stopped him. "Yes, yes, I'm sure you have all the things to say." 

Which was the start to the closest thing Bern had ever gotten to a confession of love from Dorian, even if he had to be sarcastic to do it. _I hope this ends soon_ , indeed.

And as they watched the sun rise over the mountain peaks, bathing the world in golden light unsullied by the green of the Breach, Bern could feel the Maker's presence, filling him with warmth and love, and he knew that whatever trials were to come, he would never face them alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Bern recites lines from the Canticle of Trials. You might recognize one of the verses from Cullen. The ones not on the Wiki are from World of Thedas vol. 2.
> 
> For those of you reading the series, you've reached the "Choose Your Own Path" part of the ride. 
> 
> If you want the fluff route: [click here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4078354)  
> If you want the more serious, angst-with-happy-ending route: [click here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5783128)


End file.
